Reflections
by ripnik
Summary: Frodo reflects on the turn his life has taken after the quest.


Title: Reflections  
Author: ripnik  
completed: yes  
Characters: Frodo/Sam  
Rating: PG   
Slash: no  
  
Warnings: None, though it could depress the hell out of you, I   
suppose.  
  
Disclaimer: Tolkien owns these characters. I don't and make no  
money. The story is my own fault. All mistakes are mine.  
  
Feedback: Yes, please. Thank you very much for any and all   
suggestions.  
  
Reflections  
  
He looked into the water and saw reflections. They didn't alarm  
him. Maybe they should have but it didn't seem to matter anymore.   
Instead of seeing the reflection of the graceful willow swaying   
across the pond in the warm summer breeze, he saw a broken, blackened   
stump. Instead of the reflection of a clear cerulean sky, there were   
roiling black and red volcanic clouds. Instead of the bright yellow   
sun, he saw a great Eye, lidless, wreathed in flame. And, of course,   
the Ring was always there.  
  
Closing his eyes before he saw his own reflection, Frodo rubbed his   
face with his hand and turned away from the water. He had become   
quite familiar with the wretched, shrunken, empty creature reflected   
in his mirror lately. He's stopped looking into mirrors on  
purpose when the images from his nightmares began to invade his   
waking hours. There was a time when he had still cared about such   
things and had asked Sam if his physical appearance had changed much.   
Sam had told him he looked much the same as always, if a bit more   
frail. But it didn't really matter anymore.  
  
He looked over to the happy family setting up a picnic lunch by the   
side of the small pond. Rosie was unpacking the large basket and Sam   
was smiling and chasing after Elanor. At Sam's insistence, Frodo  
had seated himself on a small wooden bench by the pond in the cool   
shade of a large tree. Elanor was toddling around as fast as she   
could, shrieking with laughter as her father chased her, making   
growling noises. She headed towards Frodo, giggling and wobbling, a   
bit too close to the water. As he snatched her up, she cooed "Fwodo!"  
and he held her tightly. She laughed, hugged and kissed him on the   
cheek. He remembered the proper responses; he could still go through   
the motions. Smiling, he hugged her back. Frodo didn't look into the   
water, not wanting to see what might be there. She squirmed and he   
put her down. The smile had never reached his eyes, but Elanor  
didn't seem to notice as she went back to her father. Sam scooped her   
up into his arms and tossed her into the air as she shrieked with joy.  
  
Frodo felt nothing as he watched the lovely scene. It was odd. He   
remembered that once he would have felt something wonderful. But now   
there was nothing. No joy. No love. He could still feel physical   
pain, he reminded himself. He felt that every waking moment. He   
looked over at Rosie and felt a stab of irrational anger. He could   
still feel that, too. *How dare she tell Sam he had "wasted"  
a year-he had nearly died saving all of Middle Earth...* Frodo   
restrained the anger quickly. He could still do that for now, too.   
But he didn't know for how much longer. It flared up faster and was   
more difficult to control each time.   
  
Sam set Elanor down and watched her carefully as she toddled towards   
her mother. When she was safe, Sam came over to stand beside the   
bench. Frodo looked up and squinted into the brightness that was   
Sam. He shone with health and immeasurable happiness. Love seemed   
to radiate from him like a physical force. Frodo could feel it flow   
around himself, sliding off, never touching him, never reaching him.   
Sam sensed this and reached out to stroke Frodo's cheek, looking  
sad and concerned. Frodo closed his eyes and leaned into the caress,   
actually able to remember how the touch used to make him feel. The   
wonder, the awe, the shivery feeling that would suffuse his entire   
body and make him weak in the knees. But he felt nothing now.   
  
Somewhere, deep inside, something grieved, wailing in anguish at the   
enormity of that loss of feeling. Again, Frodo was surprised that he   
could actually feel something echoing around within the empty,   
shrunken place that was himself. But it never reached the surface.   
Did it really matter?  
  
"Are you feeling all right, Frodo?" Sam's voice was full  
of love and concern. Frodo opened his eyes and pasted a smile onto   
his face. "I'm fine, Sam. Really. Go back to them. I'll come over   
when lunch is ready." Sam gazed dubiously into his face, then bent   
over to kiss him tenderly on the forehead. Resting his cheek on top   
of Frodo's head for a moment, Sam whispered to him, "I love you, you  
know." Frodo's smile collapsed as he said simply, "I do know. Thank  
you." Sam straightened up, looking troubled, but nodded and walked   
back to his family.   
  
Frodo wanted to feel happiness for him. Wanted to be a part of Sam's   
life, but memories were difficult to access now. It was getting   
worse. Soon there would be a time when it would be   
impossible to remember. Gandalf had said this would happen.   
  
The lack at first was a blessing on the Field of Cormallen. But   
later, when the numbness didn't abate, and when he still cared,  
Frodo had gone to Gandalf to find out why this was happening to him.   
Gandalf explained how unrelieved, constant exposure to fear, pain and   
trauma could burn away the capacity to feel or care. It was something   
that was common in wartime and affected all races. With proper care,   
some would get better, some would not. As Gandalf spoke to him,   
Frodo had thought back to Minas Tirith and the Houses of Healing   
where he had volunteered to help with the wounded after his physical   
hurts had healed. Over and over, he had heard hardened veterans of   
Gondor screaming that it didn't matter as their shattered limbs  
were removed to save their lives. He would see warriors of Rohan   
staring into the far distance with a strange look as they sat or lay   
unmoving in their beds, seemingly unhurt. It was explained to him   
that these brave warriors and soldiers had looked upon so much horror   
that their minds and souls were hollowed out and drained. The look on   
the faces of these men was familiar to Frodo, but he couldn't remember  
where else he'd seen it until he had looked into Merry and Pippin's  
eyes that evening, and then his own mirror.   
  
Gandalf had then explained to him again the effects of the One Ring.   
Frodo had known this before but had not fully understood. That there   
would never be true healing and that it would only get worse, as long   
as he stayed in Middle Earth. He had raged at Gandalf then and wept   
for what seemed like hours. Feeling cheated and infuriated at the   
unfairness of this turn of events, he'd horrified himself by  
cursing Gandalf and Bilbo and had even asked why Sam wasn't affected   
similarly. He'd carried the Ring, as well, hadn't he? Why was he   
whole, while Frodo was scarred and empty? It was so unfair! Gandalf   
had tried to explain that Sam had not had to carry it as far and that   
he had come from a loving family and wasn't an abandoned, neglected   
orphan, but Frodo had ceased to listen at that point. Gandalf had   
given up explaining and simply held him, rocked him like a baby as   
he'd cried for the loss of what he had had and could never have   
again.   
  
Frodo never told Sam about his visit with Gandalf. Sam had so   
desperately wanted things to be the same again. Frodo could not bring   
himself to try to explain to his dear friend and love how he was   
being progressively consumed from within by a desire for something   
that no longer existed and never would. That, due to the trauma of   
the war, he had lost his ability to feel or care about anything that   
was important in his life. How could one explain something like   
that?   
  
The anger returned with an intensity that frightened him. He was   
mildly surprised at his fear-he had thought himself beyond fear.  
No, the fear was for Sam and his beautiful family. Frodo feared what   
he was becoming and did not want to inflict that on them. He had  
wanted so much that he could now never have. But that didn't matter  
anymore. Sam could have what he could not. Before it was too late and   
he had nothing left to offer. Frodo decided that this truly did   
matter. It mattered so very much.   
  
The realization of his decision shocked him. Frodo blinked and felt   
a tear track down his cheek as he looked up at Sam, Rosie and Elanor   
waving to him to join them. He smiled a genuine smile, stood up and   
looked into the water. For the first time in many months, saw himself   
reflected truly as he heard the call of the Sea. 


End file.
